Sophia Laurent collapsed onto the bed, her fingertips still trembling with lingering aftershocks.

For once, Ethan Sullivan didn't pull away immediately. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, his muscles taut as if trying to fuse her into his very bones.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Three years of marriage, and this was the first embrace they'd shared after intimacy.

She turned cautiously, burying her face against his chest. The faint scent of ambergris mixed with passion made her eyes burn.

An eternity later, Ethan suddenly released her.

He reached for his cigarette case, slender fingers extracting one. The lighter clicked, the flame illuminating his chiseled features.

Sophia stared at his smoke-veiled profile.

"I thought you quit," she whispered.

Ethan stubbed out the cigarette, his gaze heavy. "Sophia, let's get divorced."

The words stabbed straight through her heart.

"Why?" Her voice trembled.

"Isabella's back."

Isabella Valentine. The name etched into his soul.

Sophia dug her nails into her palms. Three years of devotion couldn't compete with his first love's mere glance.

She mechanically dressed, her legs nearly buckling.

"Where are you going?" Ethan caught her wrist.

"To make breakfast."

"Not today." His gentleness shattered her.

Sophia fled to the bathroom where tears erupted. The red-eyed woman in the mirror looked like a pathetic failure.

The lavish breakfast table mocked her.

When Ethan handed her chopsticks, she noticed his wedding ring was gone.

"I'll pack my things." She pushed away the untouched congee.

Upstairs, Sophia shoved clothes into a suitcase. A silk nightgown snagged on the zipper—their honeymoon purchase.

She finally broke, collapsing to the floor in wrenching sobs.

The garden roses bloomed brilliantly—planted by her own hands.

When Ethan offered a check, she fixated on his wristwatch. She'd saved three months' salary for that birthday gift.

"Call me if you need anything." He pulled her into an embrace.

An unfamiliar perfume on his collar made her shove him away.

As she turned, his voice stopped her: "Who is Kyle?"

Her feet rooted to the ground.

"You called that name last night." Ethan's tone was soft. "I wish you happiness."

Sophia gripped the suitcase handle until her nails snapped, the pain unnoticed.